Talk To Me
by L.M. Avalon
Summary: For four years she'd been visiting the museum every Saturday at the same time. Inuyasha may not believe in love at first sight, but he might make an exception just this once. If he doesn't miss his chance, that is. AU. Oneshot. Inu/Kag.


I fell in love with this song the first time I heard it so I decided to write a oneshot to it... here's the product. It's an AU. The song is **Talk to Me** by **Keri Noble**.

Edited: 3-17-2011 (just cosmetic changes; nothing serious)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or the song.

* * *

Talk to Me

* * *

There she was again.

She'd been coming every Saturday, early in the morning, always with a few college books tucked under one slender arm. A worn yellow backpack was slung over a shoulder and looked like it'd been run over by a truck or something.

And again I did absolutely nothing...

_**There you are again,  
**__  
**I see you all the time,**_

__

**We haven't really met yet.**

"Dude, she's here again. Get up and go talk to her!" Miroku hissed near my ear. Or at least it was meant to be hissing... it was a hell of a lot louder on my end of things. I ended up yelping and clasping a clawed hand over the abused ear while my friend grinned at me wickedly. Damn monks... Sending a furious glare in his direction, I sneaked a glance back to the girl to see if she noticed my outburst.

Sadly... she did.

Her blue eyes were staring at the two of us, dancing with curiosity and amusement. A smile played on her lips.

**_But you know, I don't mind._ **

_**'Cuz I think today's the day,**_

_**I'm gonna go right up and say to you:**_

_**Would it be alright,  
**_

_**If I called you up sometime?**_

Embarrassed beyond belief, and sure that a blush was betraying me, I turned back to Miroku and slammed a fist on top of his head. Showing violence may not have been a way to a girl's heart, but I heard her laugh at us anyway before walking away. At least she didn't notice me watching her leave.

**_There you go again,_ **

_**I let you get away.**_

Miroku clambered up from the ground and pressed a hand to his probably bruised head. "Jerk," he muttered. "You really need to get up the nerve to talk to her one of these days, it's embarrassing..."

I glared at him heatedly, crossing my arms over my chest. "Oh, like you have the guts to talk to Sango?" It had the desired effect. He sniffed, offended, and sauntered away to do his own work in the museum, leaving me standing alone in one of the many galleries. Glowering at anything in the room, I left to do my own job.

You see, that young woman has been visiting since just after we opened the museum. My brother... excuse me, _half_-brother, owned the entire building. My fascination with weapons, and our father's temper, forced him to offer me a job. Sesshoumaru made my life a living hell; on purpose, I bet, but it was better having Miroku around. Not just as a personal punching bag, but I guess you could say he was my friend or something. So was Sango.

That is one hell of a kick-ass chick.

I mean that in a good way. When I'm not there to inflict pain on the part-time monk, Sango does it for me. It doesn't help that Miroku has the habit of feeling up every girl that comes within a five foot radius of his hands. What a moron! Even I know better about the female population than to do that. Hell, even _Fluffy _knows more than Miroku about women! Although that might be due to the fact that he's married. My sister-in-law, Kagura, is pretty bad-ass, too. Ah, but any knowledge about girls that my friends could offer wouldn't help me with my problems. That girl that I was just...well, for lack of a better term, _ogling _back there is way out of my league.

I know that.

She's in college something I know because of those giant books she lugs around... Shouldn't she have broken her back by now? College meant she was actually doing something with her life. Not that I'm not.

After going through several of the rooms that housed weird paintings that any asshole could call 'art,' I came across my workshop. It's kind of like my office, except it's filled with sharp, pointy objects. [Insert the drooling here.] I don't know art. I _do _know weapons. Not the simple put the sharp end through a person here' facts. I can eve fight with them. So can Fluffy. Dad forced us to learn when we were pups, loading us into the back of our nanny's mini-van as if that was the normal suburban thing to do. "Bye, kids! Have a good day stabbing one another!"

Dad's some kind of all-powerful dog demon. My grandpa grew up in the Feudal Era of Japan, and taught Father how to use swords, too. They both believe in that, the whole having to kill a person by slicing them up, not just shooting the hell out of 'em and hoping they didn't get back up. The "modern" way of slaying your enemies. Dad did us a favor by teaching us how to fight, too.

My job? To keep all the antique swords in sharp condition so that they can be displayed in the museum. It's fun, mostly. I also get to throw people out of the place. That's fun, too.

So, yeah, Sesshoumaru and I had different moms, but he's only a few years older than me. My mom home-schooled us both, even though Demons have been accepted by the masses for decades. But even though I've never been inside a school for lessons my entire life, just to pick up some new weapons from professors and stuff, Sango and Miroku went. They worked here part-time during college, and then graduated last year. Sesshoumaru was nice enough to offer them both high-paying, full-time jobs here at the museum as soon as they had their degrees in hand. He'd have been an idiot not to. I mean... more of one than usual.

Sango majored in art and is some kind of expert or something. She goes around and files the information. Sometimes she gives tours. Miroku, when not drooling and groping Sango, decides where which painting or clay pot or whatever should go.

He has the decorating sense of a woman.

He's also a monk when he's not working here. I snorted, as I do every time I remember this about him. Aren't holy men supposed to be, well... holy? And people wonder why I hate monks...

But back to my problem.

That girl out there. The tall, slender, graceful, pretty one with the big blue-gray eyes and the waist-length, wavy black hair- can you tell I pay a lot of attention to her? She's been coming every Saturday morning for four years, just after we open at 7am, and stays for about an hour. She started coming a year after Sango and Miroku started college. Since then, she's always carrying those big ass books, so I'm guessing she's been in college since then. Math's not my best subject, but I'm betting that means she's on her last year in school. Most of the time I end up in the same room as her. She's here for that hour, and I have a job to do which means going all over the building and keeping it in shape, so I normally bump into her at some point or another. Not that I intentionally look for her...

... If people had seen my shifty eyes right then they'd think I was some kind of sinister villain or something. Keh.

I don't say anything to her. Why should I? In fact... I don't believe we've even said one word to one another in four years. There's just something about her that draws me in... Miroku jokes that it's her long legs. Then he's normally too unconscious to go on.

Jackass...

Sharpening a 16th century saber (it'll be plastered on some wall soon), I put thoughts of her aside. It's easy enough, I normally see her only once a week, so I don't have to worry about meeting her again until next Saturday. Instead, I focused on cleaning up the beautiful piece of metal and planning my next 'Hurt Miroku Day.' It's a fun holiday that comes about once a week.

[Snicker.]

**_At least I've got more time,_ **

_**To think of what I might say (like):  
**_

_**"Couldn't we be good" (or maybe):  
**_

_**"Don't you think that we should find,  
**_

_**Some quiet little place where we'd make love all day?"**_

A few weeks passed by; it was closer to summer. Normal as ever with the mystery girl popping in on Saturday mornings. Sometimes Miroku and Sango, who are normally following me around in boredom, try to talk me into talking to her. Well, Sango tries to get me to talk to her. Miroku suggests I grab her ass. I have this sneaking suspicion that Sango, our residential female adviser, is really a big softy. Feh. Hell, I bet she's a _romantic_. Those are just hopeless, I thought as I stared at the woman again. Bitch, why the hell does she always have to make me a hypocrite? I'm not a romantic. But that doesn't mean I can't dream of talking to her. Saying a few smooth lines like in the movies and making her fall head over heels in love with me.

Then I remember that I'm _Inuyasha_. I hate talking to people, and I couldn't deliver a smooth line if my life depended on it. Why deny it? The chance of me finding a line to use on that... that _woman _is way beyond what I can do.

But it didn't hurt to think about it.

Then one day, something screwed up happened. She didn't show up Saturday morning. Being anxious and distant until lunch got Sango and Miroku 'exasperated' with me. Their word, not mine.

"Oh, just admit it already," Sango told me dryly. "You're hooked on her. One day without her, and you're even more of a jerk than usual. She's like a drug to you!"

Miroku grinned, one arm slowly sliding around the pretty brunette's waist. "I agree. Love can conquer all. And I think you're hopeless enough that Fate will allow you to get this girl. Even if it is _you _we're talking about."

That's about the time Miroku was hit by two fists. One of which was mine, of course, but the angrier one came from the only girl in our group.

Sango brushed off her hands and returned to her sandwich. I went back to banging my head against the wall. Miroku was now a heap on the carpet. We were in one of the less-traveled rooms of the museum for lunch break. "You're addicted to her," Sango repeated in a sing song voice, her magenta eyes seeming to glint with knowledge.

"Feh," I huffed, irritated beyond belief. Pissed, really. "Like hell! I am not."

"Uh huh," she muttered. "I believe you."

"Uh huh," I mimicked her in the same disbelieving tone.

"Just talk to her!" Sango snapped. "How hard can it be to go up to her and start up a conversation?"

She had no clue, did she?

"I could give you pointers, Inuyasha," Miroku offered, reaching past us for another sandwich. His hand passed dangerously close to one of Sango's breasts. Her eye twitched, and she didn't even wait for contact between them before colliding another fist with the man's head.

It took me forever to stop cackling after that one.

I picked at my lunch. "It doesn't matter," I growled finally. "Stay out of my business."

Sango gave me that look of hers that said plainly 'That's bullshit, and like hell am I going to do what you want.' This stubbornness was one of the many reasons I was sure she was probably the only girl I know that I'd really be able to get along with.

Picking off the seeds on her sandwich bun in exasperation, she sighed. "Tell me, oh Great Half Demon One, why the hell it doesn't matter. And try not to use inappropriate words. You're in the prescence of a lady."

Miroku snorted. I knocked him out for the third time.

"Fine. Why do you care so much? Look, she comes once a week. If I want to make a move, I will. I have time, so butt out."

"Thank you for watching your language," she said in clipped tones.

We went back to our meal.

"I wonder what her name is..."

Oh... Crap... That had just slipped out, I swear!

"If you'd talk to her, then you'd know," Sango pointed out snobbishly.

"Keh."

As we ate, something moved out of the corner of my eye. A visitor was in the room. Like I care. If they see three employees eating lunch in public and don't like it, they can just go stick a-

Wait.

Was it her?

Yep, it was her. Instead of coming in the morning, she'd come at lunch. If anyone mentioned the lightening of my features at the moment, they'd have to deal with a claw through their throat.

"Hey, 'Yash, there she is!" Miroku pointed out the obvious. Leave it to him.

"I know," I growled at him in a low voice, still watching her move around from the corner of my eye.

_**Come and talk to me!  
**__  
**What are you waiting for?**_

_**'Cuz I can see you passing every day and I'm always wanting more.**_

_**Come and talk to me,**_

_**What are you gonna do?**_

A small feeling in my gut told me that I should go and talk to her. Right now. This was _the _time. She was here; I was here. We were both in the same room, and I was on lunch break, so I didn't have work to use as an excuse. Not that I ever excused anything. I would have done it too...

... If Fluffy hadn't walked in at that exact moment.

_**'Cuz I can't seem to get the nerve to get off my own ass,  
**__  
**And come and talk to you...**_

"Inuyasha," he said coldly. It wasn't that he hated me that much, he used that tone with everyone... and he hated everyone, too, but that's beside the point.

"Yeah, what?" I growled. Half of me rejoiced at the distraction. I didn't have to talk to her right now! The other half called me a jellyfish (a rather offensive term!) and said I was just looking for any excuse. I was a coward with no guts. I didn't embrace either little voice.

"Sorry to cut your break short," he started, knowing that I knew that he wasn't sorry at all. "But the very important art collector, Yumata Kikyou, is here. I would like you to speak with her."

Oh... Great...

Kikyou wasn't a bad person, per se. She was pretty in her own Ice Queen way, and I was sure she was nice, but she couldn't hold a conversation to save her life. She was also about as emotional as Sesshoumaru. I guess her elegance, beauty, and grace were supposed to make up for it...

"And you can't do it... why?" I asked dryly, as I got up from the ground, my empty lunch wrappers ditched for Sango or Miroku to clean up. It would probably end up being Miroku. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the Mystery Girl watching my conversation with either natural curiosity or nosiness. Probably a bit of both.

"Because... Kagura has called, and I need to go and keep her company. It seems she's pregnant." Believe it or not, his mask never broke while delivering this news. Not once.

I stared. "You're going to be a father, Fluffy?"

Wow, miracles _do _happen. Or disasters, depending on your point of view.

"Don't call me Fluffy, and yes, I will be a father," he drawled coldly.

I choked. Seriously choked. "Poor kid!"

I never saw that fist coming...

Watching him leave the room, I rubbed at my throbbing head and grumbled in pain. He hit _hard_. I turned back to find Miroku and Sango gone, leaving the trash for me. But there was still someone else in the room, and her poorly concealed laughter easily reached my fuzzy 'puppy' ears. I turned a glare on her, my molten eyes narrowed, but she ignored it. She gave me a lopsided smile, and I felt my heart freeze. God, she was attractive...

Our eyes met for a moment, sapphire clashing with gold before she gave a small wave and left the room. Still not a word was spoken between us.

Oh, well, I decided, I could just talk to her next Saturday.

That was the last day I saw her.

* * *

Two years later, I was still working my ass off at that museum. But hey, at least Miroku and Sango were still there to amuse me. I mean, _keep me company_. And I was still around my favorite things in the world: swords. Kagura, the most sarcastic bitch I know (which might be why we get along so well) even bought me my own sword. It was just after her and Fluffy's daughter, Rin, was born. Hey, I'll be honest; the kid's cute. _Real _cute. She's one of those sugary, perky toddlers that could make even Sesshoumaru smile. And I mean real smiling, not the 'I'm going to kill you now' smile. That one's just plain creepy and would probably give Rin a heart attack if she saw it. Or she'd giggle and stick a pink flower in her father's womanly hair.

Then came The Day. Yes, the 't' and 'd' are capitalized, it was _that _important.

That morning was, to put it bluntly, utterly screwed up. People were running everywhere, and the noise had me cringing, my ears ringing, and my claws ready for a bit of bloodshed. What the hell made it so hard for people to understand that their chatter was just useless noise that heart demons with sensitive ears. Or ears at all. I'd like it if they were all born without voice boxes. Anyway, my point is, it was crazy. Insane. There were a lot of humans and demons running around, priceless works of art in their hands. We were moving some stuff around; we needed more space. We had these stupidly large collections from some dead guys coming in.

I honestly didn't get what all the fuss was about.

I looked at one of those 'artworks,' and it made me think my eyes were gonna bleed.

"Hey!" I grabbed Sango's shoulder and pulled her over. She glared at me heatedly. Sheesh, the woman was like an enraged tiger when you took her away from her art spying. "Now, why's this so important again?"

Sango's anger disappeared as it was replaced by amusement, and then quickly by irritation. "Inuyasha!" She snapped, "I've already told you two times this morning! Can't you pay attention?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. She got my message.

Sighing, she rolled her shoulders back as if to try to work some stress out of her muscles. "It's gonna be busy here for awhile," she started slowly, like I couldn't understand her, like I had the mental capacity of a two-year-old. My glare made her speed up. "We have this tour coming through; didn't you listen at our employee meeting last week?"

"Do I ever?"

"No," Sango admitted, rolling her eyes. "Next time do, it'll save me the trouble of explaining again. Monet, Van Gogh, and Degas. Do you know those names?"

"Uh, yeah... Sorta."

"Good, remember them. You may hate art, but these guys are gods in the art world. There's this huge world tour of all their best work traveling everywhere, and we were picked to host it here in the city," Sango told me patiently.

I blinked. There was this faint memory of Sesshoumaru telling me about this. Something about not screwing it up or breaking anything, and not to forget...

Whatever.

"Ok. So it'll be loud and smelly until this... 'art' leaves," I summed up.

Sango glared in a way that, if not directed at me, would have made me proud. "Why don't you just go crawl back to your swords and not bother the real art lovers?"

"Like you?" I rolled my eyes smugly. "Admit it, bitch, you love weapons as much as I do. I've seen you sneaking into my workroom after hours."

The faintest of blushes dusted over her nose. "Shut up," she muttered, walking away again to make sure that the workers bringing in the paintings didn't mess them up. Like someone really was stupid enough to run a painting into a doorknob or something.

**_CRASH_  
**

"HOJO!"

Oops... spoke too soon. I winced, stalking over to look at the damage done to a 'priceless' painting by some sandy-haired human. He looked sorry enough, stuttering and apologizing. I think he didn't see the wall before he walked into it. But the kid had been smart enough to turn last minute, and only the large, expensive frame was cracked. Idiot.

Leaving the masses, I walked down the hall towards one of the rooms where no one else was. The museum was in chaos, which I normally like. But sitting alone by myself is pretty good too, you know? I mean, away from the human stenches and the 'high and mighty' glares of full demons. Miroku and Sango are great. Don't tell them I said it, but they're family. They've been with me for... forever. And it'd be horrible if they left, but it'd be better if I had someone like how Miroku has Sango and Sesshoumaru has Kagura. They understand each other; when is it my turn?

I like being alone.

It's nice, not to have people always near you. It's quiet and peaceful, and there's no stupid endless talking or mindless bothering.

I collapsed on the wine colored rug and crossed my legs. And then _she _entered my mind. Again. The Mystery Girl showed up in my thoughts at the weirdest times. I mean, I could be cleaning the gutters, and I'd think of her! But it wasn't all the time. Since the Mystery Girl had mysteriously disappeared, I'd only wondered about her three or four times. That's pretty good for two years, right? She came for awhile, and then she left. I'd let it go... I'm not some stalker. Those creeps need a good beating.

But, here she was again. Right in my head. I don't really know her, which was probably why I liked her so much. She was just there; she didn't force herself on me like some girls, she didn't flounce away either. I'm one of those people who'll sit on a park bench and watch people go by. I'll wonder about who they are, what they're like, if their lives are what they wanted. Then the people are gone, and I'm left alone like I prefer to be. And that Mystery Girl was another of them. I remember when I first really saw her. She'd walked in on a Saturday morning, like she would do for years following, and had sat down on one of the wooden benches in front of a large painting. Her books were piled next to her, and she'd tilted her head thoughtfully, staring hardcore at a painting.

The painting...

Something Sango'd said earlier jump-started my memory. The painting that the Mystery Girl had been looking at that first day was by one of those dead guys whose tour was going through. Van Gogh.

So Mystery Girl, for lack of a better thing to call her, had stared at Van Gogh's painting. For hours. Like it was some great mystery to her, just like she was to me. To tell the truth, I actually liked that painting. It was one of the few that I'd stop to look at when I could. _Starry Night_. Not too shabby. So she had looked at the painting, and I'd looked at her as I readjusted some of the other paintings and put up a new display of throwing knives. And I did what I always did when I was bored and there was a stranger near me: I wondered about her. I'd played some possibilities in my head about who she was, what she was doing in the city, if she had pets. And then I'd been done in that room of the museum and moved on to the next, the Mystery Girl gone from my mind.

It surprised me when she came back the next weekend. And the weekend after that, and the one after that... and so on, for four years.

I had more than enough time to think about who she was, to play my game. I think it was a year later that I seriously got around to really looking at her. To see how she moved, laughed, and studied the art so intently. I think it was right before she'd left two years ago that a thought had nudged its way into my mind when I was drifting off to sleep one night, the thought that I could love her if I'd ever get to know her.

And just like that, in the present, the Mystery Girl was no longer on my mind. I had got up off the floor to look through the museum for something else to do.

I should probably go and see that Van Gogh painting, that _Starry Night_, one last time. Since that dead guy's paintings were going on tour, they'd probably take it with them, and I wouldn't see it again until the art tour was over. But when I got to the painting, it wasn't alone...

_She was there._

**_You know I love the type._ **

_**You look like you've been up all night,  
**_

_**And yet somehow still look beautiful.**_

The girl that had kept me distracted for four years, entertained and far away from boredom. The girl that'd disappeared two years ago, leaving me a little unnerved and maybe upset. She was sitting there, on that same bench that she had six years ago, staring at the same painting as when I'd first met her.

Hell, this was one intense sense of déjà vu.

I'm proud to say I only hesitated for a second before I sat down next to her. Well, 'next to her' is a loose term. We were each on one end of the bench, staring up at the painting. She didn't have those damn college books with her anymore. Or her backpack. She was just sitting there in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, her hair down as she looked at the Van Gogh masterpiece. I planted my elbows on my thighs and leaned into them.

"I used to see you here all the time," Mystery Girl suddenly said, not even looking over at me, her blue-gray eyes still pinned to the blue and white swirls.

Startled, I looked over at her and studied her profile. Small nose, big eyes, sweet looking lips. "Uh... yeah." Smooth, real smooth. "I remember you, too," I commented, striding for idleness.

She laughed lightly and glanced over at me. Her eyes reminded me of the ocean, made me wish for the days I lived beside the ocean. "You here to see _Starry Night _one last time, before they drag it away with all those other Van Gogh's when the tour leaves?"

"Nah," I grunted, looking back up at the art. "I work here."

Another laugh. "I wish I did. I'd love it," she admitted. She put her palms on the bench and leaned back, her head cocked to one side as she studied the wall again. "He's good."

"Yeah..." I shrugged. "Why do you like this one?" I gestured at the huge painting. It was a confusing mass of blues and whites, oranges and yellows.

"It's my favorite," she said, a smile playing on her lips as her eyes lit up. "I guess I like it because..."

Don't say because it's 'pretty.'

Don't say because it's 'pretty.'

Don't say because it's 'pretty.'

That'd be such a _girl_ thing to say. I mean girly-girl, not Kagura or Sango kind of 'girl.'

"... Because my dad used to take me to look at it when I was little." We sat together for a little while before she turned to me, sticking her hand out. I gingerly took it to shake in greeting, thinking, _She might just disappear on me again_. "I'm Kagome." She smiled encouragingly, looking straight into my eyes.

**_You do it all at the same time._ **

_**Whenever you walk by,**_

_**You always look me in the eyes.**_

Nice name.

"Inuyasha," I responded quickly.

She glanced at the fang poking over my bottom lip and then up at my ears.

"Half dog demon," I told her before she could ask. She blushed. It was cute.

Ohgod. Did that word just come out of my mouth? Or mind? Or whatever? She's not cute! She's a grown woman who's... uh. What's another word for cute? And...

... Miroku's right, she _does _have nice legs.

I took my hand back. "So... I haven't seen you for..." I paused for a minute, acting like I really had to think hard about when I'd last seen her. "Two years?" She grinned. It made my stomach flutter. Dammit, I'm turning into a pansy.

"I went abroad for a bit to study with a famous veterinarian, Kaede; I'm going to be one, too. I just came back home, and I can't believe I ever left this city in the first place. I love animals," Kagome told me before blinking, like she was amazed she'd just told me something so personal with so little prompting.

I smirked. It seemed she felt pretty comfortable with me. Now, how could I use that to my advantage?

"Good for you," I said. She smiled at me. "Hey..."

"Yeah?" Kagome asked, watching me as I stood up and stood in front of her.

"...Do you want to... Uh, go get a bite to eat? Together, I mean."

**_And in that moment I know,_ **

_**the same thing's on your mind.**_

Please say yes.

Please say yes.

Please say yes.

"Now? Sure!" Kagome chirped, blushing to the roots of her hair that I'd asked her out. Not that it was a date or anything. "I'd love to, Inuyasha."

_YES_!

"Great," I grinned at her, and we started to head towards the front doors. Kagome looked over her shoulder at all the employees running around. Sango, her fiancé (Miroku, of course. Did I forget to mention that?), and Sesshoumaru standing in the midst of them, yelling orders.

"Don't you have to work?" She looked back at me, those gorgeous stormy eyes of hers curious.

I shrugged. "They won't miss me, if I disappeared for a few hours." Which was very true.

She giggled and looped her arm through mine, tugging me to the door, "Good! I came here just after dropping off all the things back at my apartment from the airport, and I'm in serious need of caffein."

I smiled as she pulled me out on the busy city streets, dragging me with her, laughing and talking all the way. And in that moment, I marveled at how easily being together with Kagome clicked with me. I'd found her. I'd found the one person that I just might be meant for.

This could be the start of a beautiful relationship.

**_It always seems to be that I let the good things pass by,_ **

_**Because I let my fear stop me... But not this time.**_

* * *

THE END


End file.
